Where exactly was Asteria?
Was she drifting through the quietest, most hidden depths of her own mind? Was she drowning in that persistent, dark impulse to devour the living — the hunger that had taken root behind her ribs like a cold, bottomless void?
She could not tell. There was no horizon in this endless abyss, no solid ground to anchor her senses. At first, it seemed a vacuum of pure, suffocating darkness, but as her consciousness flickered, the void bled into a chaotic mess of colours. It looked like a child's painting, wild and unrefined, beneath a heavy sky where four distinct suns hung in static alignment.
No... it wasn't anything at all. It was merely the erratic firing of a mind pushed beyond its limits.
Asteria knew she was trapped in a state of chronic pain, like a hammer striking the interior of her skull, even if the sensation felt strangely detached from her current form. She knew her physical body was bleeding out on cold stone somewhere in the Dream Realm, her depleted cores struggling to patch together her torn flesh. But she had no concept of time. She did not know if hours, days, or centuries had slipped past whilst she lay in the dark.
Not yet. Not now. But slowly, inevitably, she began the arduous ascent from her endless nightmare.
GASP.
Asteria threw herself upward, her chest heaving as she dragged a ragged, desperate lungful of air into her body. For a terrifying second, it felt as though she had completely forgotten the mechanics of breathing. The sudden, violent movement brought instant regret.
The Vault of Splendor materialised around her, exactly as she had left it — cold, grey, and utterly lifeless. The pristine marble floor beneath her was heavily smeared with thick pools of her own blood, the dark fluid tinged with the distinct, iridescent purple madness of her unique lineage.
Trembling, she pressed a hand against her flank. The fabric of her silk gown was stiff and ruined, but beneath the grime, the flesh was sealed. She wasn't bleeding anymore.
Against all reasonable logic, her reckless gamble had allowed her to survive.
"What... the hell just happened to me," she croaked. Her voice was an awful, dry rasp, struggling to find any real volume in the quiet vault, as though the sheer pressure of the room had stolen her vocal cords.
Attempting to organize the sudden influx of thoughts was an agonizing task. The human mind was never designed to receive centuries of complex runes and their understandings in a single, instantaneous flash. To emerge from such an experience with her sanity intact was a miracle in itself; a lingering headache was a remarkably small price to pay.
What she did understand, with absolute, unshakeable certainty, was that her mind now held the complete, unfiltered structure of Hope's Teachings.
Runic Sorcery.
'Did I seriously just become a master sorcerer overnight whilst drifting on my deathbed?' she thought, a grim, self-deprecating chuckle caught in her throat. She deliberately steered her focus away from the deeper channels of that knowledge, terrified that dwelling on it too quickly might cause her head to literally fracture. 'Suck on that one, Noctis. You told me it would take a few hundred years to master a sliver of your craft, and I've gone and learnt the entire library in one go. Who's the genius now?'
"I think... it's about time I went home," she muttered to the empty room, gritting her teeth as she forced her legs to lock beneath her. "And perhaps I'll beg Song to send a healer to my quarters. Or three."
Noticeably, despite the hollow ache of her soul and body, her physical movements weren't hindered. Her external wounds had fully knit together, leaving behind only the phantom pain of a close brush with her feeble mortality. The gamble had been foolish, a desperate play that should have ended her life, yet her body had endured the strain.
However, the complete absence of light or shifting shadows within the underground vault made it impossible to determine how much time had passed in the world above. Civilization was her only metric for reality. Pulling firmly on her tether, she dissolved and abandoned the ruin.
The transition was a disorienting blur, but the Queen of Nightmare quickly materialized within the familiar surroundings of the Great Clan Song's NQSC compound. Before she could even steady her footing, she was swept up by the protocols of the facility, hoisted down a massive elevator shaft, and escorted directly toward the expensive, heavily guarded Dream Gate linked to Ravenheart.
"Princess Asteria, thank goodness," a formal voice spoke from somewhere behind her shoulder, though she didn't bother to turn her head to identify the speaker. "There are several urgent matters requiring your immediate attention. Our communications team has been entirely unable to establish contact with your device."
As she scrolled through the logs on her communicator, a cold knot formed in her stomach. She hadn't been asleep for a few hours. According to the calendar, she had been completely unresponsive for the better part of two weeks.
She let out a long, weary sigh, her shoulders dropping. 'I suppose being force-fed the foundational secrets of a Daemon whilst simultaneously bleeding out from a punctured torso will do that to a girl,' she reasoned silently, her thoughts laced with a dry, bitter sarcasm.
***
"My daughter, where exactly have you been hiding yourself?"
Ki Song's voice did not rise in anger, yet it filled every corner of the long, pristine throne room with an unnatural, suffocating presence.
Asteria had barely cleared the threshold of the Dream Gate before she was effectively intercepted by the Great Clan's security detail and ushered straight into the presence of the Sovereign. She stood now before the massive, ornate throne, looking decidedly rumpled against the immaculate marble.
"I was attempting to clear the remaining nests within my Citadel, and I very nearly perished in the process," Asteria stated bluntly, making no effort to hide her irritation with the abrupt summons. "My brief absence was due to physical exhaustion and a rather severe stab wound, Mother. You have my sincerest apologies for the inconvenience."
High above her, Ki Song's dead puppet shifted its weight, resting its cold chin against the palm of its hand. The corpse's eyes gleamed with a cold, detached curiosity.
"And you chose to undertake such a task entirely unassisted?" the puppet inquired, its tone entirely matter-of-fact, as though a brush with permanent death were a minor error. "What manner of creature there could possibly possess the strength to nearly kill you?"
"I am currently incapable of bringing an escort because I have not yet attained Transcendency," Asteria countered, her jaw tightening. "It was a Corrupted Beast. A remarkably vicious specimen that understood precisely how to attack my soul."
She stared back at the throne, a bitter thought crossing her mind. 'What did you honestly expect me to do? I am left entirely to my own devices out there, handling ancient horrors whilst you sit back and watch.'
"You previously mentioned that this particular Citadel was situated within the boundaries of the Nightmare Desert, correct?" the Supreme asked, the puppet's head tilting slightly.
"It is," Asteria replied, her eyes locking onto the lifeless, painted gaze of the construct. "Why do you ask? Are you planning to march an army over the dunes to help me eradicate the remaining creatures? There is only a small amount left, but they are dug in deep."
The puppet let out a soft, dry laugh that echoed off the high ceiling. "That is not an entirely terrible proposition. It has been far too long since we engaged in an endeavor that did not involve the torment of Vale."
"So you view my survival as a matter of amusement?" Asteria muttered under her breath. "Not because... I don't know... I could actually die during the next encounter?"
"Both considerations carry weight," the puppet replied smoothly, the humor fading from its voice as it straightened its posture. "Now, let us address the actual reason your presence was required."
The Sovereign paused, letting the weight of her authority settle over the room. "I require you to maintain your focus on the Citadel. Continue to explore its perimeters and augment your strength. However, I would prefer if you restricted your activities to scouting the immediate geography rather than engaging the remaining nightmare creatures directly. We shall dispatch the necessary force to cleanse the ruins in due course."
***
And that was precisely how Asteria found herself right back where she started, standing within her silent, sun-drenched palace of glass. The heat of the desert beat against the exterior walls, a stark reminder of how close she had come to never leaving the vault below.
This time, however, she had no intention of exploring the depths. She bypassed the lower levels entirely, navigating the translucent corridors until she reached a secluded, heavily reinforced chamber in the upper tiers of the palace. 'The Vault can wait for another day,' she thought, a slight shiver running down her spine at the mere memory of the slate-grey monster. 'Just thinking about that staircase makes my skin crawl.'
Seeking out this specific room wasn't an act of coincidence; she knew the room confidently, making it the safest sanctuary within her territory. She needed absolute isolation. Her soul was currently holding two entirely new memories, and her mind was still struggling to categorize the vast library of runic language she had inherited. She needed to anchor her sanity before she attempted anything else.
The chamber was a beautiful anomaly within the crystal palace — a square room constructed entirely from polished obsidian, furnished with a grand bed, heavy drapes, and every basic luxury a Queen could require.
"At least the accommodation is a significant upgrade from the floor," she murmured, collapsing onto the edge of the mattress.
With a practiced thought, she summoned her status runes, watching the blue text manifest in the quiet air. Resting at the bottom of her runes were the two new entries: [Soul of a Betrayer] and [Truth Seeker]. Her gaze naturally gravitated toward the first; it had been harvested directly from the essence of a man she deeply despised, and she was eager to see what the Spell had forged from his ruined soul.
Memory: [Soul of a Betrayer]
Memory Rank: Transcendent
"Sounds just about as pathetic as your life turned out to be," she murmured, a cold smile touching her lips as she glossed over the rank. The Transcendent status was expected after all.
Memory Tier: I
Memory Type: Charm
'A charm?' Her eyebrows rose slightly. 'I was told they're quite rare.'
Memory Description: "Once, there lived a man whose loyalty to his sovereign was absolute, an unshakeable pillar of his identity.
Yet, that very King chose to abandon his realm to pursue the elusive threads of a Fated mission, bequeathing the crown to his young daughter. The man transferred his fierce devotion to the heir, engineering a pristine paradise amidst the shifting sands of a ruthless desert.
However, his unyielding obedience also served to enable the heir's most catastrophic, reckless impulses.
In the end, his choices steered the kingdom into absolute destruction — forever betraying the memory of the master he served to protect a realm built upon harsh truths and devouring dreams."
Asteria stared at the text, the bitterness of the history lesson settling over her. "So you truly were the architect of your own destruction in reality, not just in my visions. A man of immense intellect, Valerius, yet entirely undone by your own desperation. The smartest mind in the Kingdom of Glass, and you died a hollow monster. To think I actually admired you for a moment."
She cleared her throat, shifting her focus down to the operational parameters of the charm.
Memory Enchantments: [Essence of the Soul], [Spirit of the Soul], [Guardian of the Soul].
[Essence of the Soul]: The rate your essence replenishes is increased.
[Spirit of the Soul]: The amount of spirit essence you can absorb in your source element has significantly increased.
[Guardian of the Soul]: Your soul gains minor resistance to soul damage.
"This is an exceptionally potent piece of kit," she admitted, nodding her head in genuine appreciation. "That soul resistance alone is worth the agony of the fight."
With a simple thought, she summoned the memory. A brief shower of white sparks materialised in her palm, coalescing into a small, delicate charm constructed from flawless clear glass, its edges reinforced with an intricate lattice of silvery metal. A tiny, stylized crown was engraved into the centre of the glass. Asteria held the artifact up to the breastplate of her gold armour; the moment the materials brushed, the charm silently anchored itself to the metalwork, a soft pulse of light confirming the connection.
The effect was instantaneous. The sluggish, draining ache in her chest vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense rush of vitality. The ambient essence in the room no longer felt like a slow trickle returning to her cores; it felt like a heavy rainstorm in comparison.
'What exactly constitutes a source element, though?' she mused, her interest piqued by the wording of the second enchantment. 'Do I already possess one? Hey, Spell — care to enlighten me on the subject?'
[...]
She sat in the quiet room for several seconds, listening to the silence. 'Of course. No answers today. Heaven forbid the Spell makes my life simple for once.'
Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the final, glittering line of text on her ledger. Her pulse quickened slightly as she read the runes.
Memory: [Truth Seeker]
Memory Rank: Divine
"DIVINE?!" Asteria bolted upright, nearly tumbling off the edge of the mattress in sheer disbelief. Her eyes scanned the runes repeatedly, terrified she was misreading the text.
Memory Tier: I
Memory Type: Tool
Her excitement vanished instantly, her face dropping into a flat, unimpressed expression. "...You have got to be joking. A tool? I was praying for a sword or some armour..."
Memory Description: "The Seeker of Truth has officially embarked upon her journey to unearth the ancient, forgotten mysteries of the universe.
This chronicle serves to compile her travels, her choices, and the objective truths she uncovers along the way."
Memory Enchantments: [Endless], [Researcher's Dream], [Seeker of Truth.]
[Endless]: This chronicle contains an infinite number of pages, continuously expanding its volume as the number of uncovered truths increases.
[Researcher's Dream]: The Seeker of Truth can replicate mundane versions of this journal of mystery to share with others.
[Seeker of Truth]: ???
"Are you telling me..." Asteria's voice rose in pitch, her frustration echoing off the obsidian walls. "I did all of that for a book?! Okay sure, I got the entirety of a Daemon's sorcery but... a book? Come on..."
[...]
The runes remained static, offering no response to her outburst.
"Right. Silence. You know exactly how insulting this is, don't you?"
[...]
Letting out a loud, theatrical sigh, she rubbed her temples. The disappointment was immense. She had anticipated something world-shattering from her Aspect Legacy, but it appeared this artifact was merely a passive record — a template that would update itself as she explored the secrets of the world.
'There's no sense dwelling on a useless book,' she reasoned, forcing her frustration aside as she stood up. 'I have explicit orders from a Supreme to explore a vast, empty wasteland. I might as well get started.'
***
The following morning, Asteria departed the perimeter of the crystal palace. Clad in her standard silks with her starlight blade in hand, she carried only a simple basket containing water and basic rations. She stepped out into the blinding white expanse of the desert, navigating the massive dunes like the wandering nomads described in novels.
The sand was blindingly bright, reflecting the harsh glare of the sun. The heat intensified with every mile she traveled, waves of distortion shimmering over the horizon. There was nothing to see but sand — endless, undulating drifts of white powder that swallowed her footprints within minutes.
Her only point of reference was the distant, titanic silhouette of a black pyramid. It loomed on the horizon like a dark mountain, and whenever she stared at its apex for too long, a cold, instinctive dread made her spine stiffen.
She walked for hours, the journey quickly bleeding into days of monotonous travel through the waste, until she finally spotted a shape that shattered her view on what a desert is.
It was a tree.
It stood alone amidst the dunes, a towering giant that seemed to defy the barren environment. The bark of the titan was a striking, industrial white — resembling fresh winter snow — whilst its branches were thick with clusters of bright, scarlet-red leaves that rustled softly in the desert wind. Beneath its wide canopy, a small, crystal-clear spring pooled in the deep shade, the water dark and inviting.
However, as Asteria drew closer, the peaceful image vanished. Hung from the countless branches like an abhorrent harvest were hundreds of bleached human skulls, clicking together softly in the breeze. This entity was undoubtedly magical, a sacred growth born from ancient power, yet it carried an aura entirely distinct from the beautiful tree aboard Noctis's noble ship.
But it wasn't the skulls that caused her to halt. It was the two complete, humanoid skeletons nailed directly to the trunk, positioned side by side at eye level.
As she cautiously approached the shade of the red leaves, the jaws of the first skeleton suddenly moved, its hollow eye sockets locking onto her position.
"My oh my! Do we actually have a visitor after all these years?" the skeleton spoke, its voice carrying a lofty, thoroughly resigned cadence that sounded remarkably human. "Am I truly that pleasant to look upon? Is that why you stand there and stare so intently?"
Beside it, the second skeleton ground its teeth together with a sickening click, a guttural, dry growl escaping its throat. The entity violently strained against its bonds, its calcified limbs rattling against the silver nails that pinned its hands and feet into the wood. After a brief, useless struggle, it relented, hanging limply against the bark.
The aggressive skeleton glared at her, its voice dripping with venom. "An abominable creature... a thrall of Weaver! How dare you show your face before me in this place?"
Asteria merely shrugged, resting her hand casually on the pommel of her blade. "I go wherever I please. Tell me, what exactly can a pair of skeletons pinned to a tree do to stop me?" She let out a soft laugh.
"I am Azarax the Mighty!" the angry skeleton roared, its ego entirely unaffected by its current state of decomposition. "The Plague of Steel! The King of Kings, and conqueror of a hundred thrones! Free me from these wretched nails, abominable thrall, and I shall grant you any wish your heart desires!"
"Right, of course you will," Asteria muttered dryly, before turning her attention to the first skeleton — the one who had spoken with such casual nonchalance. "And what about you? Who were you before you were bound?"
"Me? Oh... I am merely a pitiful slave," the first skeleton replied smoothly, its tone entirely unbothered by its companion's shouting.
Asteria lingered beneath the scarlet leaves for a moment, her analytical mind working through the scene. "Why exactly are the two of you nailed to a sacred tree in the middle of a dead desert?"
The entity calling itself Azarax let out another harsh growl. "Do you truly not recognize this territory, ignorant creature? I am confined here because I marched my grand armies into the Great War. I slaughtered a myriad of souls, and the cowards punished me for my absolute strength and my pride!"
Asteria shifted her gaze to the quieter companion, waiting for an explanation.
The first skeleton answered succinctly, its jaw clicking with simplicity. "I have angered the Gods."
Asteria tilted her head to the side. "How, exactly, does one manage to anger the Gods?"
The skeleton let out a dry, rattling sound that resembled a sigh of genuine regret. "Well, if you must know the details... I slit a god's throat. My, oh my! One could argue the entire affair was a massive misunderstanding. Was there truly a need for them to be quite so petty about a simple death?"
Asteria's breath hitched in her throat, her mind stalling. 'He... he actually murdered a God? That is completely insane.'
"And if I were to pull those silver nails and let you down from this trunk, what is your immediate plan?" Asteria asked curiously, her fingers lightly tracing the cold surface of the metal spikes holding them in place.
"My oh my! You would honestly contemplate freeing us from this damned timber?" the first skeleton laughed, the aloof, airy quality of its voice scratching at the interior of her mind. "I am not entirely certain, to be frank. Perhaps I would begin the long trek toward the Underworld, seeking my final rest within the eternal embrace of Shadow..."
Asteria turned her head toward Azarax, gesturing with her chin for his response.
"I would conquer!" Azarax bellowed, his ungrateful voice vibrating with ancient pride. "I would rebuild my shattered armies from the dust! I would slaughter every remaining enemy in this wasteland, and if any of those pathetic Gods still breathe, I shall take their heads next!" He paused, his hollow sockets narrowing as he stared down at her. "And then, I would hunt you down and end your life. You, and every other thrall who carries Weaver's scent."
'Right. Note to self: Azarax stays on the tree permanently,' Asteria concluded instantly, stepping away from the aggressive spirit. 'The other one seems remarkably peaceful, despite casually admitting to deicide.'
The mention of the deeper realm struck a chord in her memory. 'The Underworld... where have I encountered that term before?' She searched through her past experiences until the pieces clicked into place.
Her Second Nightmare. The ancient visions she had witnessed upon the defiled altar of the cathedral — the history of Halesia's father, Aemedon. He had explicitly ventured into the depths of the Underworld to bargain with its Prince.
'Was this the trajectory you intended all along, Fate?'
"And if I were to free you from your bonds," she spoke softly, her eyes fixed entirely on the first skeleton, "would you permit me to accompany you on this journey to the Underworld?"
"My oh my! I would certainly allow it," the skeleton replied without a hint of hesitation. He turned his skull slightly toward his thrashing companion. "A mortal traveler would be a magnificent upgrade from his shouting. I have endured his company for a few thousand years, and the conversation has grown terribly repetitive."
Asteria did not wait to press her advantage. "And if I ask for the rest of your story? Your name? Slaying a God sounds like an exceptionally fascinating tale."
The skeleton went entirely rigid, the casual air vanishing instantly as his dark, empty sockets locked onto her violet eyes with a sudden, freezing intensity. "Ah... I shall have to ponder that request for a time..."
His jaw loosened slightly, the ancient power within his bones thrumming as he chose his words. "A name? I possessed a glorious name once... many lifetimes ago. What was it again? Ah, yes..."
He paused for a moment, staring into her eyes.
"For now, you may call me... Eurys. Eurys of the Nine."
[End of Volume 3: A Dreamer's Dream]